


What I Can Get

by ClutchHedonist



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Biting, Choking, Dom Asra is everything I have ever needed in my entire life, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masochism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Stepping on Julian is The World's Biggest Mood, Sub Julian Devorak, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 13:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18099047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClutchHedonist/pseuds/ClutchHedonist
Summary: “You could have just asked.” His lips are brushing the shell of Julian’s ear, “You didn’t need to break in.”“It’s n- haa-” The hairs at the nape of Julian’s neck prickle, “It’s not really breaking in if you lock the door again afterwards, right?” He tries a meek grin. Asra’s other hand fists in his curls, and it drops away into a broken groan.





	What I Can Get

There’s a knot in the pine wood of the shop floor, just beside Asra’s cluttered nightstand, that’s almost the shape of an eye. Julian can feel his own lashes graze it as he presses one cheek -already burning- to the ground. Between his shoulder blades, Asra’s heel grinds down as he shifts his weight.

 

“Hello, Ilya.” 

 

Julian can hear the coy smile in Asra’s voice, can feel the strings of warding magic tangled around his limbs begin to unwind. He struggles to look back at him over one shoulder, but Asra, balance never faltering, simply repositions himself to keep him pinned until he’s only a blur of white hair at the corner of Julian’s vision. 

 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He asks, “All of those times you pretended you weren’t looking?”

 

“Oh god.” Julian’s voice is small and distant in his own ears, a choked, piteously grateful thing.

 

“I thought so.” Asra kneels over him, and his knee takes the place of his foot. Julian exhales, whimpers as Asra leans down to pull one lanky arm up behind his back. His fingers are warm around Julian’s wrist, but his grip leaves no room for struggle. 

 

“You could have just asked.” His lips are brushing the shell of Julian’s ear, “You didn’t need to break in.”

 

“It’s n-  _ haa _ -” The hairs at the nape of Julian’s neck prickle, “It’s not  _ really  _ breaking in if you lock the door again afterwards, right?” He tries a meek grin. Asra’s other hand fists in his curls, and it drops away into a broken groan. 

 

“What did you think you would find, Ilya?” There’s that smile again, teasing just beside Julian’s temple.

 

“W-Well-”

 

The hand in his hair moves to cup his jaw, force his eyes to meet Asra’s regardless of the discomfort of the position, “This?” 

 

Julian is panting, dragging shallow, desperate breaths through his nose, mouth working helplessly. Asra drags the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip, and his cheeks darken. 

 

“Please.” Julian begs.

 

“Please?” Asra repeats, bemused. 

 

“I’ll- if you- y-you can-” Julian stammers as he twists his hips against the floor. 

 

“I can-...?” Asra leads.

 

“Anything.” Julia offers immediately, “Just-”

 

“Turn over.”

 

Julian, trembling, scrabbles to obey. Asra sits back just enough to allow the motion before resettling himself astride his hips, and Julian’s breath catches in his throat. It disappears entirely when Asra closes his hands, with a slow and certain grace, around the length of his pale neck. Julian’s eyes widen, then roll blissfully back, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. 

 

“What makes you so certain you deserve it?” Asra taunts.

 

Julian’s gaze snaps back to him, brows knitting, “I-I’ll be good.” He gags with the last of the air left in his lungs, “Pl-” And then there’s nothing left, and all he can offer is a despondent, ruined glance. 

 

Asra laughs, a soft thing with edges that cut nonetheless, and rolls his hips down against his. Julian thrashes beneath him, limbs splaying out over the floor but never moving to dislodge his grasp.

 

“Then be good.” Asra tells him softly, one thumb soothing down the curve of his throat.

 

Julian offers an eager nod, eyes fixed to him. His hands are claws, skittering fruitlessly across the ground. Asra releases him, only for a moment, to guide them to his own hips. 

 

“I will, oh my god, I w-will.” Julian croaks as soon as he has breath, clinging to him, “Please, Asra, l-let me be good for you, I-” And then his pleas are strangled beneath Asra’s palms once again.

 

There’s a quiet concentration in him, like an exorcism, as he holds him, as if he can suffocate the note of sadness that Julian has glimpsed in him, too. Julian shoves it from his mind, imagines Asra imagining him, and squirms dutifully nonetheless. His vision is blurring, swirling, by the time Asra allows him another gasp. 

 

This time, it’s to free him from his breeches with one deft hand. Julian keens as his fingers brush him, and then, just as quickly, Asra squirms above him to escape his own. Julian hears him murmur something, and Asra’s palm returns to his cock, slick now, and tight enough to wipe away whatever thoughts of questioning him are left to him. His other hand anchors itself at the nape of Julian’s neck. Asra tilts his head back to expose him, then cranes in to brush his lips against his already-bruised throat. 

 

“Well?” He breathes.

 

Julian, rendered practically boneless, strains to align their bodies. His cock is already leaking dangerously, and he feels another pearl of it drop down onto his stomach as he finds himself flush against the heat of Asra’s entrance. His eyes widen, “... _ Oh. _ ”

 

Asra’s hands find Julian’s wrists, pin them back against the floor firmly enough that Julian’s knuckles clatter against the wood, “Do it.” He orders.

 

Julian needs no further encouragement. His hips surge up to meet him as Asra forces himself down over his length, Asra’s struck groan pinched behind closed lips. His nails drive crescents into the back of Julian’s forearms. 

 

“A-Asra!” Julian gasps as they find their rhythm.

 

“Shh.” Asra scolds, and his teeth rake over Julian’s pulse just beneath his ear.

 

Julian gives a feeble whine, struggles to stifle himself in his own shoulder. Asra’s hips jerk, greedy, as he rides him. Julian surrenders to it, lets himself, with sighing elation, be mastered,  _ used _ . His eyelids flutter. 

 

Above him, Asra’s chest soon begins to heave. He buries his exertion in Julian’s throat, in suckmarks that break the skin and bring tears to cling on Julian’s lashes. He can hear himself babbling, breathing gibberish - _yes yes yes, god yes, please_ _yes_ \- into the pale crown of Asra’s head. There’s a space somewhere between his brows that has become a heady whirlpool, a point around which reality slurs and only sensation remains, and Asra’s body, Asra’s _teeth_ , is all there is. It’s in this space that Julian feels something jerk in his stomach, feels himself beginning to unspool.

 

“Asra, I-” He pleads.

 

“Not yet.” Asra pants, “Not yet.”

 

Julian lets out a gored sob of pleasure and does his best to stay himself by pressing one cheek into his hair. As Asra quakes down over him, it becomes agony in its own right. 

 

“Asra.” His voice is climbing after another minute, “ _ Asra, please- _ ”

 

“Now.” Asra tells him.

 

Julian’s hips pitch hard enough to lift him up from the floor, and Asra wrenches himself down over him. Julian feels his release spatter up the length of his jacket, fleck the base of his abused neck, and then he’s overcome. Asra hooks his jaw in one hand and forces his thumb between his lips, and Julian wails his climax gratefully into his skin. 

 

He falls slack when his body is wrung out, a smear of black fabric and pale, purpling flesh against the floor. Asra steadies his breath over him, warm hands now resting, quiet, on his chest. When he lifts himself off him, it’s as if he’s mist, drifting just out of Julian’s reach. His purple eyes skirt Julian’s prone frame, and then the corner of his mouth pricks up.

 

“Are you coming to bed?”

 

Julian, curls slick with sweat, swallows for breath, “J-Just a...in a- in a minute.”

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me and scream about stepping on julian at clutchhedonist.tumblr.com


End file.
